


You Two Are Horrible For Each Other

by tohidefrommyfriends



Series: I'll Even Give Her Mine [2]
Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tohidefrommyfriends/pseuds/tohidefrommyfriends
Summary: "Your relationship is always strained. It's always on the edge of breaking. You guys are dumping each other so often, it doesn't even really affect me anymore. So what's a little more weight on the bungee cord?"





	You Two Are Horrible For Each Other

"Alright: freshly popped popcorn for me," I placed the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, "red licorice for the lady," I handed the bag to my wife, "a couple of glasses of wine," I winked at her while I poured us some alcoholic goodness, "and a whole line of comedies set out and ready for watchin'! Let this movie night officially _begin_!"

I plopped down next to my wife, propping my feet up on the coffee table, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She giggled up at me, her cheeks lightly blushed, and her brown eyes sparkling and happy, and she looked just so beautiful. This compulsion to kiss her until she couldn't breath overcame me, and I started leaning down to meet her lips. And then I just thought: did I even _want_ to watch the movies anymore--

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I groaned, pulling back in irritation, and squeezing my eyes shut. "That _better_ not be who I think it is."

My wife smiled softly at me and nodded. "In all likelihood, I'd say it is. It's been four months since they last broke up and got back together again. It was only a matter of time before there was another tiff, and one of them came around to seek our comfort." She glanced at the glass of wine that she had clutched in her small fingers, and sighed. "I admit, this isn't the most _convenient_ time for a crisis, but they are our best friends. And, although it doesn't look like it from first glance, they are meant for each other. I just wish the road wasn't so bumpy."

"Babe, it's always been bumpy, ever since -"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocks on our door were even more insistent than before, and I shook my head, pushing myself up from the couch with a huff. "Well, there goes our day off," I mumbled, placing my glass of wine on the coffee table and walking over to the front door to open it.

I looked through the key hole, immediately felt the urge to punch something, but settled on resting my forehead against the splintery wood. It took me a few seconds to gather the patience to open the door.

He didn't say anything when we made eye contact. I knew he knew I knew.

The uncomfortable silence only lasted for a few more seconds, before I said, "What are you doing here, Arnold?"

Arnold rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his feet. "I'm not . . . interrupting anything, am I?"

I faked an incredulous look, my annoyance at having been interrupted translating into sarcasm, and said, "_You_? Interrupting something when you know me and Phoebe don't work tomorrow? And it's a Saturday? And it's nine o'clock at night? No, _never_."

He sighed. "Look, Gerald, I know you're aware of what's going on, but this time . . ." He hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine, before dropping back to his shoes. "This time it was much, _much_ worse."

The anger in me dissolved a little bit. Usually when Arnold came over after a fight with Helga, he was still a little angry and just needed someone to rant to, but he seemed really _serious_ this time. Because he wasn't looking, I took the chance to really take in his appearance: he wasn't wearing a coat, despite the fact that it was early February, his hair was all disheveled, and even his arms were flushed from whatever fight he had just been in. And his voice was quieter than normal. Like he was actually sad or something. I found that a little startling; Arnold was hardly ever sad after a fight with Helga. Usually it was just residual anger, followed by inevitable lovemaking that probably shook their whole apartment. (Sometimes I regret pointing them in the direction of the empty room a couple floors beneath us. I swear, I can hear them sometimes.)

I shook my head and stood out of the way so he could come in. "Alright, man, tell me what happened."

Arnold's head lifted up, (a little too slow for my taste), and there was this earnest, and yet mostly unreadable expression in his eyes. "Really? I don't want to impose -"

I rolled my eyes, gesturing him in. "You already ruined the mood, anyway, might as well finish the job."

* * *

"Is it cool if Phoebe sticks around?" I asked, handing him a glass of wine, and watching in disdain as he downed the whole thing in one gulp.

Arnold shook his head, but said, "Yeah, that'll actually be better. I need someone from Helga's court to weigh in on this. I just . . . I'm lost here."

After Arnold's third glass of wine, I put the bottle under the coffee table as a subtle way of cutting him off. My man's not a light-weight or anything, but I did not want him tipsy while trying to explain his Helga problem. Even sober it'd be hard to put into words. But drunk? Forget about it. He didn't notice my action, or, if he did, he didn't say anything. He was a bit spacey, and he wouldn't stop staring at the empty glass in his hand. His eyes were dark, his skin was paler than normal, and he was chomping down on his bottom lip something fierce. I mean, that kid always has me worried; the only person I know that's as reckless and impulsive as him is Helga, so I always considered their relationship to be a match made in hell. They bring out the worst in each other. But somehow they bring out the best, too, and Arnold's never as happy as he is when Helga's right beside him. Even when they're fighting, he's got this twinkle in his eyes. Bottom line, the guy's a goner. No going back. And that's what baffled me so much about that moment. I mean, Helga and Arnold were so on-again off-again, they give me whiplash on a regular basis. Their off-agains are _painful_ for everybody around them, but especially themselves. I don't really know how Helga gets, because she usually only talks to Phoebe when they've broken up, but Arnold is always a _mess_. He slams doors without even really meaning to; he eats a _lot_ of strawberries; and if he so much as hears her name, he'll leave the room. Their _on_-agains, however, are passionate and kinda scary to witness, but there's this weird normalness to it. Like the fighting is just what _happens_ with them.

I will never understand their messed up relationship.

So if they broke up, then for about a week of Arnold sleeping on the couch in his living room, they'd eventually get back together again. And, sure, this was only day one, but Arnold seemed . . . broken. I'm pretty sure if his emotions were on the outside, he'd be a mangled corpse. He looked so drained and depressed, a part of me wanted to hate Helga just for making him that way to begin with. I'd like to think Arnold would be happier without her, but that's the biggest lie not even Sid would believe.

I cleared my throat to get his attention, and waited until he looked up at me. And damn, I almost wish he didn't. I'd never seen his eyes so dead. But I didn't want to worry him by being worried, so I said, "So, Arnold. What happened?"

Arnold averted his eyes, pausing for a really long time and thrusting Phoebe and I into his depressed silence. Just before I thought he wasn't going to answer me, he said, "I proposed to her."

His voice was so quiet, so timid, almost _embarrassed_ that I could hardly hear him. Arnold had been talking about proposing for a while, but only in passing and usually after a few drinks. I didn't know he was actually _serious;_ I thought it was just the result of his drunken musings, but that theory wasn't without reason: he would always start the conversation with something stupid like, "If I ask Helga to marry me, do you think she'd punch me in the face?" To which my drunken ass would laugh and say, "Probably. But then she'd say yes. Then she'd let you fuck her, and then she'd punch you again. Girl's got issues."

Arnold hates when I even playfully insult her. One time, he actually smacked me in the back of the head for saying something like that. Sure, it didn't really hurt, but usually Arnold's more of an ask-questions-first kinda guy. I mean, I love Helga the same way anybody would hate their sibling, so I didn't really mean anything by it, but leave it to Mr. Protective to step up to defend her honor by immediately resorting to physical violence. He loves the _hell_ out of her; if anybody actually insulted her with the intent to hurt her feelings, there's a good chance Arnold would go homicidal.

In saying that, I knew she must've said no to him. Because if she said yes, Arnold would be in his bed right now, doing you-know-what with you-know-who. And I'm pretty sure I'd _definitely_ hear that one.

Just as I opened my mouth to answer him, Phoebe said delicately, "I take it it didn't go well?"

Arnold sighed, turning his gaze back to the glass in his hands. "Yeah. She said no."

Even though I was pretty much expecting that, considering his behavior, the way he said that just about killed me. He was so resigned about it. Basically he had just said to me, "My dreams are dead and the woman I love doesn't love me anymore," and his face definitely resembled a man who really had just lost the love of his life. I mean, he hadn't told me what happened yet, but worst case scenarios were flying through my head, one after another. But I just figured I'd let him speak for himself.

"What happened after that?" I asked him, trying to make my voice sound comforting.

Arnold groaned, lifting his feet onto our couch and laying his head on his knees. In that moment, he looked like a child, but I couldn't hold it against him. Heartache does strange things to people. "I asked her why, and she." He paused, and I got this sick feeling in my stomach that he was crying. I mean, most people would scorn a grown man for crying, but Arnold cried just about as much as I do, which is never. And getting dissed during the proposal is a pretty good reason to break down. He lifted his head eventually, but his eyes were dry, which relieved my heart a little bit, but the twisted frown on his lips kept that concern up to it's highest level. "She started crying, and every time I tried to comfort her, she would move away from me. But all I could get out of her was . . . she kept asking me _why_ I wanted to marry her. That she doesn't really believe that I love her as much as she loves me." Suddenly, Arnold's eyes lifted to meet mine, and there was a slight desperation there. "You know I love her, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it sickens me. But _she_ doesn't believe that you really do? I mean, after all these years of you guys breaking it off, and then pulling it back together doesn't prove that to her? That long, hilarious rant four years ago about you loving her since you were three? That wasn't enough for her?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I guess not. But, I mean, you see it right?"

"You're damn right I do."

"I love her so much, it kills me sometimes."

"I know. And like I said, it sickens me. You two are horrible for each other." Arnold's head snapped up, and the glare that he shot me held enough venom to kill a fully grown man if left untreated, so I quickly added, "I mean, that wasn't really what I meant." I sighed, leaning forward and putting my elbows on my knees. "Look, you two have the most dysfunctional relationship I've ever seen in my life. You guys are more turbulent than _Rhonda and Curly_, if you'd believe that. But, at the same time, you two are meant for each other. After all these years, that should be obvious. Even when you two aren't together, I can still see it in your eyes that you're just waiting for the right moment to whisk her off her feet, and you always do. You always manage to reel her back in. Just like she's always done to you. You guys aren't ever going to leave each other. Neither of you will let that happen, and I think that should be pretty clear." He just looked at me semi-blankly, but I could see hope in his eyes. I latched onto that. "So she said no. That won't last forever. You guys will make up. And I know this fight feels like it's the end, because marriage is a huge step, and if one of you isn't ready for it, it could really put a strain on your relationship. And what I'm about to say might not really sound like it'll help, but it will, I promise.

"You're relationship is _always_ strained. It's _always_ on the edge of breaking. You guys are dumping each other so often, it doesn't even really affect me anymore. So what's a little more weight on the bungee cord? I promise you, Arnold, one day you guys'll figure each other out, and then this whole blame-game can end. I mean, it's been four years, that's bound to happen soon, right? You'll find your balance."

Arnold looked thoughtful for a moment, before his face fell again. "I know, but . . . I mean, we were solid for four months straight. That's a record for us!" I wanted to snort at the ridiculousness of the statement, but I figured that wouldn't help the situation. "I thought everything was going great. I thought she'd actually say yes. When we get along, our relationship is _perfect_. It's _heaven_. But, when it's bad, it's _really_ bad. This stupid roller coaster that she's got me strapped to will be the death of me." He contemplated something for a moment before continuing. "But, I guess I won't let her off, either. She's stuck with me. There is no way in _hell_ I'm ever letting her go. I just thought . . . I thought she knew that. And I know she loves me, but what if she leaves me because she thinks I don't feel the same way as her?"

"Than that'll be the stupidest thing she'll ever do," I said nonchalantly. I was slightly surprised that Arnold hadn't glared at me for that one, but it was an obvious response. Even he was thinking it.

"You think she'll come back?" Arnold asked after a prolonged moment of silence. His voice was back to being meek again, much to my slight anger and immense chagrin.

"There's not a doubt in my mind," Phoebe answered, offering him a sincere smile. "Her love for you is much too strong for her to throw you aside for a reason so clearly false as that." She patted his shoulder. "I promise you, everything will be alright -"

As soon as that word left her mouth, our front door suddenly banged open, and then slammed shut again. Everybody knew who it was even before she stomped into the living room. Only one person was so presumptuous. Only one person had the audacity to make a copy of our apartment key. And only one other person had just experienced emotional turmoil.

"PHOEBE!" she yelled from the kitchen. "WHERE ARE YOU? I NEED YOU!"

I glanced over at Arnold, and his face was pale, a little frightened, but mostly just really, really sad. My heart went out for him. My relationship with Phoebe was always pretty steady, and, while we did fight occasionally, her presence always calmed me. Seemed like Helga's presence did the exact opposite for my man Arnold. And if Phoebe had ever said no to my proposal, I think I'd pretty much be in the same state as him.

"In the living room, Helga!" Phoebe squeaked, looking up at me, as if checking to see if she had done the right thing. I nodded at her, giving her a grin, and I attempted to lose myself in her sudden smile, but then the terror showed up.

"Oh, thank God, Phoebe, you'll never believe what -"

When she caught sight of Arnold, she froze. In any other circumstance, that would've been funny as hell, but she looked even worse than Arnold. Her eyes were puffy and red, still leaking a few tears here or there, her face was splotchy, her hair messy from being twisted in her fingers, and one of her fists was bruised. Only God knows what the hell she did to bruise her knuckles at that time of night. She could've knocked out some random civilian on the streets, or demolished a brick wall or something. You just never know with Pataki.

Her eyes were trained on Arnold, and he was staring back at her just as intently. They were about to have a heart-to-heart, I could tell. There were about to be apologies, and a couple love confessions, maybe a little more crying, but instead--

"_Football Head,_" she snarled at him, her hands balling into fists at her sides and her once-sad face twisting into a scowl. "What are you doing here?"

Arnold's previously heart-broken face hardened and he glared back at her. "Visiting my friends after _you_ broke my heart. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Broke your heart?" Helga asked incredulously, taking a dangerous step towards him. "What the hell are you _talking_ about, Head Boy!"

He growled at her, hopping over our sofa so he could get closer to her. "You remember, I got down on one knee, told you you were the best thing that ever happened to me, asked you to be my wife, got violently rejected, almost punched in the face when I begged to know why you were so upset? That ring a bell, Helga?!"

It'd been a while since I'd been in the same room as them when they were fighting. Actually, it hadn't been since _high school_ that I'd witnessed an all-out yelling war, but this sounded pretty much like it did that last time. Their relationship hadn't changed at all since then, except now sometimes they called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, and they exchanged 'I love you's' and other romantic couple stuff. But the fighting? Yeah, it hadn't toned down at all. The situation they were in even made it worse.

"_Something_ like that rings a bell, but that's definitely not how _I_ remember it!" she spat back, leaning close into his face and pretty much spraying spit on his cheeks. I would've immediately recoiled away from that nastiness, but I'm pretty Arnold's face has been in other, more obscene places on Helga's body, so I guess it wouldn't be much of a problem for him.

"Oh, yeah?" _God, who knew Arnold was such a child_.

"Yeah!" _Okay, well, at least we know where he got it from_.

"Then tell me, _Helga,_ how exactly do you remember it? Did I somehow _insult_ you by telling you I love you? It seems like every time I try to prove to you how much you mean to me, you always fly off the handle and take it the wrong way!"

"Oh, do I?"

"Yeah, you do! You are the most infuriating human being I've _ever met_!" Arnold yelled.

"Because _you're_ all rainbows and sunshine!" Helga spat, folding her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, so what if I am? _One_ of us has to be normal!" he responded, equally as venomous.

"Oh, no you're not, Football Head!" They were pretty much nose-to-nose by now, and I figured that Phoebe and I should probably leave them to it, but I was a little worried for both of their physical safety. It was just like high school all over again; they used to fight so viciously that I was sure one of 'em would punch the other's lights out. "You're just as bad as I am! Maybe even worse! You're broken, confused, and completely crazy! Just like me!"

"I am _not_ broken, I'm _not_ confused, and I'm _not crazy_!" he shouted.

"I beg to differ, Mr. Please Can I Try Something New!"

Arnold gasped, and, from what little I could see of Arnold's face, (as he was pretty much facing entirely away from me), it was bright red. Cue tense pause, before Arnold said, his voice low and undeniably furious, "You promised you'd _never_ bring that up again!"

"WELL, I LIED!" Helga screamed, giving him a shove so hard that his hips crashed into the couch and he nearly toppled over the edge and onto the floor. I looked up at Helga in surprise; the last time I'd seen her lay a violent hand on him was back in junior year when she slapped him in the face, and, when I looked to gauge my wife's reaction, she seemed just as absolutely shocked as I was. I always figured that Helga loved Arnold too much to hurt him, but, then again, she wasn't really trying. I could tell. Helga was a man-hunting _machine_; she could take pretty much any guy who crossed her in a fight. Except for maybe Arnold. She'd probably even be able to drop me to the floor in seconds flat, no question! So, no. She didn't try to hurt him. She tried to piss him off, maybe. Disgruntle him. Make him even angrier than she had already made him. Maybe release some of her pent-up anger from over this past hour. You know, that her fist couldn't take care of.

Arnold, instead of looking at her in shock, recovered quickly enough, reaching his arms forward and shoving her back, like it was second nature. Helga stumbled, almost tripping over our rug, but remained upright, (much like Arnold). I knew that Arnold must've held back like crazy. He's a beast strength-wise, but he's always too mild-mannered to really show it off. Hell, he's probably stronger than me, and I played college basketball and had to work out pretty much three hours a day. It's that stupid black belt, I swear. Helga really must've ruffled his feathers, with something that she said/did in that moment, because Arnold was a genius when it came to "controlling his anger and finding his center," whatever the hell that means. It takes a whole lot for Arnold to lose it to the point where he pushes a lady back in retaliation.

"Hey!" Helga shouted, glancing down at herself as if she had been injured, before shifting her glare back at him. Man, if I were Arnold, I would've recoiled instantly from a look that lethal. But, because he was fearless Arnold who could take on Helga Pataki and apparently win, he didn't even flinch. "Hands _off_ the merchandise!"

"That's not what you said last night!" Arnold yelled back, folding his arms over his chest. "Now, if you're finished acting like a nine-year-old, do you think you could maybe _talk_ to me?"

"Talk?!" Helga scoffed, matching his body language and turning away. "Yeah, right. Have you _met_ me? I'm Helga G. _Pataki_, remember? _Not_ Helga G. _Shortman_."

Arnold jolted in response to the jab, and I winced. Not a good move on Pataki's part. That was the entire reason Arnold had come over here in the first place: she rejected him. She rejected him and still found it in herself to mock his rejection? Like she didn't even care? I realized in that very moment, that if that was a divorce, and I were Helga and Arnold's love child, I would've totally decided to move in with Dad. But that's probably because Arnold's my best friend; it was hard not to take sides, so sue me.

Anyway, another eerie silence filled the room. I watched Arnold's profile anxiously, waiting for whatever his reaction would be. Arnold has always been pretty unpredictable; I mean, sometimes I can kinda guess what he's thinking, but whenever he's planning something? When he's mulling something over? Nope, not a clue. I'm lost. Which was why I had no idea if he was going to yell again, leave without another word, try to reason with her, or even just start making out with her like a horny teenager. Let's face it, ever since freshman year, they've pretty much always been horny teenagers.

"That was a low blow, Helga," Arnold said finally, his voice low and quiet.

"What can I say? I'm manipulative and undermining. I have trust issues, and can't handle leaving the control to someone else. I'll live the life of a lonely, bitter cat lady who never found happiness because she could never find it in herself to truly love anything. _Remember_? Considering it only happened like, an _hour and a half ago_?" Well, I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but from the way Arnold had tensed again, I could tell _he_ did.

"Come on, Helga, you know I didn't mean it like that -"

"How the _fuck_ could I have possibly misconstrued _manipulative_ and _undermining_? Seems pretty self-explanatory, Football Head!"

"I just . . . look, we were fighting, and I said some things I didn't mean, alright?!" He yelled, suddenly getting all defensive again. "It's not like _you're_ totally innocent in all this!"

"You're right, I'm not! But everybody _expects_ that from me; I've been nothing but a cruel bully ever since I was three! I've accepted my role in this life, and it's about time you accepted it, too! It's not like you haven't started taking after me or anything -"

"Helga, I've said this before, and I'll say it again! We are _nothing_ alike!"

"Yeah, well. Maybe that's the problem!"

A very uneasy silence filled the room. That sounded too much like the beginning of a very _permanent_ break-up.

Arnold broke the silence, his voice slightly shaky, and yet still confident. "You don't mean that. That's never been the problem."

"Don't be so sure about that!" Helga spat, her previous statement not affecting her in the slightest. "You and me, we're like . . . like oil and water! We don't mix!"

He growled again, inching towards her. "We've been _mixing_ just fine!"

"Oh, really? Tell me, how many times have we broken up since we got together in the first place?"

Arnold paused uncomfortably. "Well--"

"And the reasoning behind each and every one of our break-ups?" she added on, her voice annoyingly patronizing.

"Um . . ."

Helga paused, waiting for him to keep speaking, but when he just fell silent, she narrowed her eyes and said, "Ding ding ding, we have a winner. We break up all the time because we _don't get along_. Because we're _too alike_, yet also _too different_. It's always been that way, ever since preschool!"

Something about Helga's latest jab got under Arnold's skin especially, because he exploded. "YOU ARE SO STUBBORN!"

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock, pretty sure even _Geraldo_ picked up on that one."

I narrowed my eyes at her, not having expected to be dragged into their little argument. I was going to say something, but Phoebe elbowed me in the side, reminding me that the two messed up blondes before me were actually really heartbroken and hurt, and didn't need me making things worse. I sighed, and ran a hand down my face. I'm making this whole thing sound a little less serious than it actually was. It was really hard to watch them fight, knowing that neither of them really wanted to be fighting in the first place. They were just hurting each other more and more, with no end. It was frustrating, yes, and very obnoxious, but also extremely concerning.

"Why did you say no!" Arnold suddenly shouted at her, clapping two hands on her shoulders. Helga barely flinched at the sudden movement, instead matching his glower.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know -"

_"Dammit, Helga_!" Arnold exclaimed, his knuckles whitening from their grip on her body. "I won't leave you alone until you tell me what the _fuck_ is going on in that head of yours! Was it the proposal itself? Was it the fact that it wasn't at some five-star restaurant where everybody could witness it? Was it the fact that I hadn't prepared some _nine_-course meal to make it the best night of your life? Was it the fact that I used my _grandmother's_ engagement ring, instead of some flashy, brand-new diamond?!"

Helga began to look oddly small under his intense gaze. She grappled for words for a moment, before stuttering out, "No, Arnold--it was perfect!"

"Then why did you say no?" he ground out through his teeth.

"Because I . . . because . . ." Helga's resolve crumbled before our very eyes, and she buried her head in her hands. We all just stared at her for a second, before the sound of her crying reached our ears. The whimpering noises began to get louder, and she shook her head every once in a while, but didn't pull herself out of Arnold's arms. At the height of her sudden weeping, each wail was deafening, and cries racked her body, and, yeah, I'll admit it, I was pretty mad at her for being so stupid all night, but my heart really went out to her. I'd seen her cry before, only once or twice, but I'd _never_ seen her like that before.

I could only see the profile of Arnold's face, but his shoulders relaxed, his knuckles weren't as white clamped onto her shoulders, and I could hear him release a breath. He wrapped his arms around her body, rubbing circles onto her back as she cried into his chest. Arnold's voice was quiet, and I could just barely hear it. "Helga, I love you so much, you have no idea. Even though you're my girlfriend--or, _were_ my girlfriend," he stuttered and my heart broke just a little more for my main man, "I still get so lovesick just being near you. I will never find anyone who will ever compare to you, Helga G. Pataki. And I'd never want to. I love you with my entire heart, my entire soul, my entire body. I belong to you. I always will. Just.please, Helga, just believe me. I love you."

Helga shook her head against his chest. "But," she mumbled, her voice shaking and saturated with tears. "But you can't love _me_."

Arnold sighed. "Why not?"

"Because I'm _me_!" Helga shouted, suddenly wrenching herself from his hold and taking two very large steps away from him.

The room was silent. I had no idea what the hell Helga was talking about, and, when I glanced at Phoebe, I could tell that even she didn't really grasp what was going on, either. But Arnold definitely understood. I could tell by the way his shoulders were tense, the way his jaw suddenly dropped in shock.

"You--you think you don't deserve me," he mumbled, his voice in awe, like he'd never even considered that a possibility. Helga's silence was answer enough for everybody. "Oh, Helga," he said softly, quickly crossing the room and pulled her into his chest again. She struggled for a moment, but my man Arnold can be wicked strong when he has to be, so, even though she was Helga G. Pataki, she wasn't going anywhere.

Finally she stilled, and let him hold her.

"_You,_ Helga G. Pataki, think you don't deserve _me_?" He chuckled, (or, well, I guess it was a chuckle). "You deserve _more_ than me. You deserve much, _much_ more than me. But, for some reason that I will never understand, you actually love _me_. I'm the luckiest man on earth to even be able to hold you right now. You're the most amazing person I've ever met, Helga." He pulled back slightly and stared at her. "I love you." And with that, he grabbed the side of her head and laid a kiss on her lips. I'd only ever seen them kiss a handful of times, (which was good, because I can't afford to vomit that often, bad for the body), but I'd never seen them kiss like this. Usually when they kissed, it looked like they were trying to chew each other's lips off, but this time, Arnold surprisingly _didn't _look like he wanted to eat her for lunch.

When he pulled back, Arnold dropped to one knee and pulled a small ring from his front jean pocket. He lifted it up so Helga could see it and said, "Helga. Marry me, please. For the both of us. Before we go crazy. I can't live without you. We were only a part for like an hour or so before you showed up here, and I missed you. _One hour_ and I missed you. Of course, I didn't think you'd ever come back, but that's . . . just forget it." His speech was getting less and less romantic, but more and more amusing for me. "Let me be your husband. Boyfriend just isn't enough for me anymore. Especially since, over the past four years, I've only been the boyfriend about half the time. If we get married, we can still break up all we want, but I'll still get to be your husband."

Helga actually smiled at that, and Arnold visibly relaxed.

"Please, Helga?" he asked, reaching for her left hand to put the ring on. "Please marry me."

Her smirk had fallen, her eyes widened, and her lips pursed. The longer the silence filled the room, the more anxious we all became. Pretty much everything in me begged her to say yes. Look, I'm not a romantic or anything, but the whole game thing they'd been playing was getting real old, and I just wanted it to be over. And I wanted Arnold to be happy, finally. Completely and totally happy. And if she said no, he'd be crushed. And if he was crushed, then I'm pretty sure I'd be pretty crushed, too.

Finally, though her face was still fairly stoic, she managed a small nod. I wouldn't have noticed it, had I not been staring intently at her face, waiting for some sign that she'd give an answer either way.

"Did . . . did you just nod?" Arnold asked, his voice hushed and surprised. And happy.

Helga nodded again, larger this time, and a small smile was tugging at her lips.

"You nodded!" Arnold cheered, slipping the ring onto her finger and jumping to his feet. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around in a circle, laughing giddily and beaming up at her. She had started to giggle. (I know, Helga G. Pataki _giggling;_ I'd never heard it before that point, either, but Arnold talked about it constantly, so I knew it had to exist _somewhere_ inside of her.) He dropped her down again, grabbing onto her face, his fingers tangling into her messy hair, and engulfing her lips with his.

There it was. The completely unnecessary kiss that should be reserved for bedrooms. Did they honestly think Phoebe or I wanted to see that? But I doubt they were even aware of their surroundings. They had always had that affect on each other. Blinding each other with themselves. Psychos, the both of them.

I cleared my throat. As much as I didn't want to interrupt the little reunion thing that they had going on, they _were_ in _our_ living room. They pulled back, neither of them looking the least bit apologetic, and they turned wide grins to us.

"She nodded!" Arnold exclaimed, wrapping an arm tightly around her waist. "She said yes!"

Helga giggled again, burrowing into his side. "I'm engaged--I'm engaged to _Arnold,_" she said dreamily, her grin turning all goofy and lovesick. A side of Helga that I'd never seen before, nor would ever like to see again.

Arnold picked up on the tone of her voice, and he looked down at her. I'd never seen him that happy before. Not when he found his Dad's journal in fourth grade; not when he got that letter in the mail saying he made it into his dream school; not when I got him those Jazz Festival tickets for his birthday a few years ago; not even the first time he ever called her his 'girlfriend' in front of me. That last one - I didn't think it was possible for him to be any happier than that. He was all smiles and chuckles and swoons; he would get lost staring at different things, (usually Helga), and _man_, that kid is weird. But when the kid's happy, everyone's happy. He's got this contagious happiness, that whenever he's pleased with something, everybody knows it, and everybody feels it, too. He radiates emotions, which is why it's really hard to be around him when he's sad. It brings you down, seeing him hurting like that. But nope, not this time. This time, he was on _cloud nine_. I'm not even sure he was conscious enough of his body to realize that there were other people watching him. And as he looked down at her, there was such a deep admiration in his eyes, and, if I were Helga, I'd be extremely overwhelmed. But then she looked up at him, and that same intensity was there. Probably explains why their fights always got so bad, if they were holding this much emotion inside. Like I said. Psychos, the both of them. "And I'm engaged to _Helga_." He hummed, laying his cheek on top of her head.

They stood there for a moment, so long that Phoebe and I started to feel a bit uncomfortable with the silence. But then Helga suddenly lifted her head, nearly causing Arnold to bite his lip, and she stared up at him, her face blank, but her eyes thick with something. "Sex," was all she said, her voice even. "We need to have sex right now."

Arnold moaned--my man, Arnold _moaned_ in the middle of my living room. "God, yes," he ground out, allowing her to grab his hand and pull him towards our front door.

Their departure was so quick, that I just barely go out, "Congratula -" before the door slammed. "-tions," I finished blankly. Completely weirded out by the entire situation, I turned to my wife, and raised an eyebrow. "Are we in agreement?"

Without knowing what I was referring to, she nodded seriously, still staring off in the direction they'd disappeared, her cheeks pink and her beautiful brown eyes wide. "Certainly. We need to find more normal people to associate ourselves with."

I chuckled, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her to our couch so we could _finally_ get on with our night. "Couldn't've said it better myself."


End file.
